William was furious—but he knew he was in a bad spot. The enemy outnumbered him more than a thousand to one, and he didn't want the sailors getting involved. If he'd learned one thing on this ship, it was that they took the chain of command seriously. If the sailors stepped in, they'd be killed.
As the nobles laughed at him with smug arrogance, William crouched beside Dixon, Cedric, and Thom. Their bodies were bruised, their faces covered in sweat, blood, and barely contained rage.
—"What's the rule?" he asked quietly.
—"Three minutes per match. Academy versus academy," Cedric muttered, spitting out a tooth. "If you can't handle it, they drag you out like a dog."
—"No surrender?" William frowned.
—"Only if you pass out or an instructor says so… and trust me, that never happens," Thom added bitterly.
William nodded, holding back his fury. He stood up and walked to the center of the makeshift arena. All eyes were on him—some curious, others mocking.
—"I challenge on behalf of my academy," he declared loudly.
The instructors looked at him, then burst into laughter.
—"You? You think you can take the place of fifty men?" one shouted, barely containing his ridicule.
Another stepped forward with firm strides—a square-jawed man with a hard face. His uniform bore a special emblem marking him as a Commissioner of the Union of Academies. He looked William up and down with scorn.
—"Who the hell do you think you are, you insolent brat? This isn't a game!"
Then, Ángel spoke in William's mind:
"Power detected. Estimated stats: Strength 80, Agility 82, Vitality 85. Warning: superior entity."
The man took a threatening step toward him. But before he could say another word, a rough, commanding voice rang out from the upper railing of the ship.
—"Enough."
It was Captain Thenerev. Just one word from him and the air turned to ice. Every instructor tensed up. A chill ran down William's spine.
The commissioner, who just seconds ago thought himself untouchable, immediately stepped back and lowered his gaze.
—"Don't interfere," he snapped, summoning what courage he had left. "This is under Union jurisdiction. If you get involved, you'll regret it. The Union will come for you."
—"And what if I killed you right here?" Thenerev replied mockingly. "Your precious Union wouldn't even look for you… and if they did, they wouldn't find me."
Silence dropped like a hammer. The commissioner swallowed hard and turned away, humiliated. The crowd was stunned.
Meanwhile, the fifty nobles lined up for the match started whispering nervously.
—"Is that the same William who almost wiped out a hundred guards to protect his friends?"
—"They say pirates trained him."
—"Shit, we shouldn't be here."
—"This isn't a duel… this is a damn massacre waiting to happen."
But it was too late. William stepped into the circle and took a deep breath. The nobles lined up. The boldest one stepped forward. William didn't wait. He lunged and kicked him square in the chest, sending the man flying three meters back.
The others barely had time to react. William unleashed everything. Every strike was a storm—fists, knees, elbows—blending everything he'd learned training with the sailors. He moved like a wild beast.
One tried to surrender.
—"Please, stop! I don't wan—!"
William shattered his jaw before he could finish.
His friends roared from the sidelines:
—"Go, William!"
—"Make them pay!"
—"Do it for us!"
William didn't stop. One by one, the nobles dropped. Broken noses. Fractured ribs. Screams. Pleas. Blood. This wasn't a three-minute match. It was an execution.
He hadn't even needed Eternal yet. But when ten were still standing, he thought:
—"Ángel, now."
"Eternal Mode activated. Time remaining: 3 minutes."
William's speed exploded. To everyone else, he was almost invisible. With surgical precision, he struck vital points, dislocated arms, swept legs. A few tried to flee—but he dragged them back.
"Eternal Mode deactivated. Time remaining: 2 minutes, 38 seconds."
He activated and deactivated it in bursts, maximizing his efficiency. He'd trained this exact rhythm with the sailors, pushing himself to the limit.
When it was over, the fifty nobles were on the ground—some unconscious, others weeping.
William, covered in blood that wasn't his, breathed hard. He spat to the side and lifted his head.
—"That was for Dixon… for Cedric… for all the days they were treated like garbage."
Suddenly, a furious voice cut through the silence.
—"You filthy bastard!"
An instructor from Black Rock stormed into the arena. His face was twisted with hatred.
—"My brother became a slave because of you! I'll rip your heart out with my bare hands!"
William narrowed his eyes.
—"Who are you?"
—"Larnus De Valen! And I'm going to avenge my family!"
Ángel scanned him:
"Name: Larnus De Valen. Rank: Level 2 Knight. Strength: 27. Agility: 26. Vitality: 29. Warning: moderate threat level."
William swallowed. The pressure this guy gave off was insane. Just swinging his sword sent a gust of wind sharp enough to cut William's arm.
—"Shit…" he muttered as his weapon clattered to the floor.
Larnus roared and charged. William rolled to the side, barely dodging the blade. As he rolled, he started charging mana in his palm.
—"Now!" he shouted, thrusting out his hand.
A fireball exploded point-blank into Larnus's face, searing one of his eyes. The noble screamed in agony.
Before he could recover, a thunderous sound shook the deck.
Captain Thenerev dropped like a bolt of lightning. His fist pierced straight through Larnus's chest, leaving a clean, fatal hole. The body hit the floor, lifeless.
Silence fell. No one dared to breathe. And in the shadows, a pair of eyes gleamed, watching the scene.
Aurus, hidden in the dark, smiled faintly—like everything was going exactly as planned.